The way everything unfolded was still a shock to her.
Amara sat curled up on the couch in the living room, wearing one of Leo’s old hoodies she’d never returned. It still smelled faintly of him, which didn’t help at all. Every time she shifted, the fabric brushed against her cheek like a reminder of how stupid she’d been.
She’d said it without thinking. She hadn’t meant a single word of it. But once the words left her mouth, they felt like a knife she’d thrown—too late to take back, no matter how much she wanted to.
Her phone was on the table. She’d stared at it for nearly an hour now, waiting for his name to flash across the screen. Nothing.
She wiped her face roughly, trying not to cry again. She’d cried enough already. Her eyes felt swollen, and her chest still hurt from how fast he
